


When The Rain Washes You Clean, You’ll Know

by CherriesAndRaindrops



Category: Something Rotten! - Kirkpatrick/Kirkpatrick/O'Farrell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Gen, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Break Up, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27665356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherriesAndRaindrops/pseuds/CherriesAndRaindrops
Summary: When Portia accidentally finds an old letter in a drawer of Will’s, he can’t help but look back on what could’ve been.
Relationships: Nick Bottom/William Shakespeare (Something Rotten!), William Shakespeare & Portia Brooks (Something Rotten)
Kudos: 12





	When The Rain Washes You Clean, You’ll Know

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspiration: Dreams by Fleetwood Mac.
> 
> The concept of Will and Nick being exes gives me so much stuff to work with. I have so many ideas for it!
> 
> Also I sprinkled in my “Will Basically Adopts Portia” AU because I simply couldn’t resist.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy and have a wonderful day!

Will’s slump began when Portia made the mistake of going into his study.

The bard never allowed anyone into that room, no exceptions. But Portia just needed to grab a book, he wouldn’t mind, right?

Well, he probably wouldn’t, but then she made a rather poor decision.

She was heading out the door, her book under her arm, but a piece of paper in the far right corner of the room caught her unfortunate hazel eye.

Curiosity killed the cat, and she took it in her interested hands and started reading it.

_“My dear Will,_

_I don’t think any words in the english language could do justice to how much I absolutely adore you. Everything about you, from your gorgeous crystal blue eyes to your pale brown curls, makes a beautiful painting that would even the world’s greatest artists to shame._

_I can’t seem to get you off my mind. More specifically, I can’t stop think about what you said to me three nights ago. How, while you laid your head in my lap, you whispered to me that you thought you were a horrible performer, and how you didn’t deserve any sort of affection. I think differently, I think you’re utterly wonderful and worthy of every good thing that happens to you._

__

_I know what the expectations are for me in life. Soon, people shall be bugging me about trying to find a suitable wife-_

“Feeling a bit nosy today, aren’t we?”

Portia looked up from the paper to see Will leaning against the doorframe, a relaxed smirk on his face.

”Oh Will!” She gasped, dashing over to him. “I’m so sorry, I just got curious and-“

”It’s fine, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it.” He responded, taking what he thought was just a sonnet he’d written from the girl. “If I was you, I’d be intrigued as well.”

He took one glance at the paper, and Portia felt a pit form in her stomach as she saw his expression go from calm to panicked.

”...are you okay, Will?” She asked, feeling her heart start to pound against her chest. She’d finally done it, she pushed the one person that actually loved her to the edge and now he was gonna scream at her and kick her out and she’d be on her own yet again.

“I’m fine, Portia.” He responded, his eyes glued to the paper. “Could you please leave alone for a bit? I need to clear my mind.”

”Oh, okay...”

She walked out of the room, feeling remorse rush through her and she heard Will lock the door.

She always ended up hurting the ones she loved, no matter how hard she tried to please them.

—

Will sat at his desk, rereading the letter over and over, taking in every single word as if each one held the true meaning of life.

He promised himself that he wouldn’t dwell on Nick anymore, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to get as close to him as possible, and this was one of the only things he had left of him.

He must’ve forgotten to burn it a few weeks ago.

He could vividly remember the night the letter was written. Will had come over to Nick and Nigel’s tiny cottage, feeling erratic and desperate. His mother had called him a useless waste of space and slapped him an hour before, and he couldn’t stand being with her anymore.

He felt a twinge of pain in his heart as he recalled sitting on Nick’s bed, bawling into his shoulder as he wailed about how no matter how hard he tried his parents still despised him for no reason at all, and Nick just traced circles on his back, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

He could still feel his arms wrapped around his back and his lips pressed onto his cheek, a reminder as to how precious he was to him.

He didn’t get those reminders anymore. Because a month later, Nick found out that he had stolen the draft of a play he’d been working on and made it into his own.

No excuse he used convinced him to forgive him, and they haven’t worked together since.

And here Will was, over ten years later, being praised as the greatest bard to ever grace the earth.

So why did he occasionally still think about Nick?

He shook his head, stood up, and strode out of his study, clutching the letter in his hand. There was no time for reminiscing on pointless things like this. He was William Shakespeare, for christ’s sake! He had no time for whining about something that happened years ago!

He trudged down the large staircase and into the empty parlor, where he found the fireplace, it’s flames seemingly burning as bright as the sun.

He was gonna burn the letter, as he thought it was the only way to rid his sadness.

He could feel his fingernails rip into the paper as he prepared to watch it get destroyed. He wanted nothing more than to burn away his pain for good. The last thing he had of Nick would finally be gone...

...he was gonna do away with the only thing he had left of Nick.

He threw the letter on the floor, and ran upstairs into his bedroom, where he locked himself in and threw himself into his bed.

He held one of the pillows close, and began silently sobbing.

He wanted to move on, so why couldn’t he?

—

Eventually, Will did indeed come out of his room.

He slithered out like an ill snake, and haphazardly scurried down the hallway until he reached the balcony at the very end of it.

He leaned down, wrapped his hands around the thick, marble railing, and sighed. Staring at the stars always put him in a calm mood. All of them shined down on him, like tiny little spotlights. He smiled sadly back at them.

He never got this kind of peace anymore. He was always surrounding by overzealous fans or people trying to pry into his personal life. While he usually loved the attention he always got, it could get really overwhelming sometimes. Fans harshly grabbing him, autograph hounds not giving him a second to breathe, people occasionally following him home... 

That’s why he wished he could go back to being a young struggling writer on the east side of London, hopelessly in love with a boy named Nick Bottom.

“Will?”

”Yes, darling?” The bard responded, turning his head to face Portia.

”...can I stargaze with you?”

”Of course.”

The girl walked over by his side, and the two just stood together in silence until she spoke up again.

”I’m really sorry about earlier.”

”Don’t apologize, none of that had anything to do with you.”

”Really?” The blonde asked, looking up at him. “Then... then why were you so upset?”

Will huffed, lying his arms on the railing and rested his head on them. “Do you ever miss someone?”

”Mhm! I miss a lot of people!” Portia nodded. “My mom, my old best friend Anne, my dead cat Doyle...”

She paused when she saw the sadness in Will’s crystal blue eyes.

”Well, I’m sure the person you miss misses you too!” She assured, squeezing his shoulder.

”You really think that?”

”Of course! Who wouldn’t miss you?”

Will chuckled. “You always know how to make me smile.” He attested, slowly rising up. “We should be going back inside now, it’s half past nine.”

”Ooh, that reminds me!” The shorter of the one blurted out. “I wrote a sonnet the other day, and I really want to read it to you!”

”Oh, lucky me!” Will cheered, clapping his hands together. “I’d love to hear it!”

”Great!”

She grabbed his arm and began dragging him inside, and for the first time in what felt like an millennium, he felt good.

He might never find another man like Nick, but he didn’t need one when he had Portia.


End file.
